


My First Kiss Went A Little Like This

by whenfoolscanbekings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenfoolscanbekings/pseuds/whenfoolscanbekings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has never been the guy to take things too personally. I mean, it's not the world was /actively/ trying to screw him over, even if the score by his seventeenth birthday would be infinity and some to 0. Then again, as long as he was left alone in his silent pursue of strawberry blonde Lydia Martin, all would be forgiven. That and if a personal nudge towards her giving him any signs of acknowledging his existence, would be more like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My First Kiss Went A Little Like This

Stiles has never been the guy to take things too personally. I mean, it's not the world was _actively_ trying to screw him over, even if the score by his seventeenth birthday would be infinity and some to 0. Then again, as long as he was left alone in his silent pursue of strawberry blonde Lydia Martin, all would be forgiven. That and if a personal nudge towards her giving him any signs of acknowledging his existence, would be more like it.

As it was, Stiles was left cursing his baby shaped face and mole brimful body like it was his own personal time travel into the plague period. Ever since Scott got turned life changed, albeit for the best as well as the worst, depending on how you looked at it. Mostly, Stiles's life still sucked only now he knew more people to blame from now on. Hurray.

Which, you know, was an accomplishment all on its own. Oh yeah. Because Stiles has mad socializing skills, and now they were just put to test. While Scott wondered off to puppy chase after Allison, Stiles was left to his own lovesick devices over Lydia, in between rounds of very non heterosexual reveries of whether he would make a good gay lover every time Danny flashed an uneasy pair of dimples his way.

Dude thought he was crazy, that much was sure. Which did not go well with the whole 'Maybe if chicks don't work I can still be appreciate by a couple of muscle bags' kind of theory. Not that he'd ever prefer them over pale soft flesh and long wavy hair. Oh no, sir.

That was, until Derek Hale decided to swagger his way back to Beacon Hills. Dude was a legend, albeit not for the best reasons, and maybe only in Stiles's head, but still. He remembered seeing him when they were both kids, couldn't place the honest smile and flash of teeth on that face now.

And maybe he's not very fond of the physical abuse, but it does help to pass the time in between rounds of life threatening events involving werewolf related business that surely would give his dad the heart attack of his life, (which reminded Stiles to poach him some eggs and broccoli for dinner that night) but Stiles still finds it a thousand times more interesting than pining over a girl who pretends he doesn't exist. At least Derek looks him in the eye while he's threatening to rip his throat out, man.

So it's both a surprise but not really at all, when he hears the knock at his door on a Friday night, it being already way too late to be any kind of social call-- if they had those.

He thinks it might be Dad back from work early but Dad would have the key-- and he has been feeling on edge enough with this whole Alpha Peter Hale business as it was-- that he creeps up to the front door, bat in hand. God, he was a maniac. Really, he needed help.

The muffled, pained and very familiar voice on the other side of the door brings him out short, though. Makes him lose the bat for a fleet second before he gets it again, opens the door and looks around before his eyes rest on Derek.

Derek who, for all his glorified...well, glory, looks like absolute shit right there. He's a bloody, dirty mess, hair sticking up in a less than attractive way as blood ran down his nose and into his mouth.

"Oh _god_ , Derek," He breathes, and oh look, apparently the array of injuries is not confined to the werewolf's face. Fuck.

"Are you just going to gape at me, or are you going to let me in?" Derek's mouth is set on a frown, brow twitching in contained agony. Right there Stiles feels like kicking himself - if it weren't counter productive, that is.

He's letting the man in without another word, closing the door and biting on his lip hard. This is bad, very bad. His dad was bound to be coming home soon, and finding his son harboring a fugitive and suspected murderer... Not exactly trustworthy, that.

"What are you doing here, and what the hell happened?! Couldn't you have--" His arms have wounded up around the guy securely, helping him up the stairs. "--I mean, what the hell, dude? Again? Can't you go one night without getting into some sort of deadly fight? Oh god, my dad finds out and we're so freaking dead, we might as well start digging our own graves right now--" He's startled into silent as Derek lets out a pained groan, though, as they reach the top of the stairs.

Stiles looks at him like he's about to drop dead. 

Derek says nothing, only glares at him.

"Point taken, sourwolf. But I'm not letting you sleep in my damn bed like tha-- Dudeeee, you're bleeding all over the carpet! Hurry, **hurry** ," He sped up their pace from a baby snail to a very stoned sloth, and soon they were reaching Stiles's bathroom door. He helped Derek onto his bathtub, blood staining the white marble. 

The look Derek gives him says millions, but he seems okay with it. For the most part. 

"I need you to remove a wolfsbane laced bullet from my leg," Derek deadpans in between gritted teeth, and Stiles call only blink at him. 

"Do I look like a damn doctor to you, Derek? Oh god, why does this only happen to me. Scott's probably on his goddamn second round of sex with Allison by now, and--" He's pacing around the bathroom, hand sliding over his buzzcut. He comes to a halt as the picture of Scott and Allison going at it assaults his mind. Ewwww. "--alright, let's forget all about that. But I'll butcher your le--"

Derek growls. 

Stiles huffs and gets out the emergency kit, rummaging around it. He gets out bandages, disinfectant and a pair of tweezers. 

"Man, seriously... I can't do this. I have no medical training whatsoever," He bites his lip, heart going a mile a second. Derek grunt and rubs his hands over his face, smearing more blood on it. Just that second, they hear a door click shut.

His dad. F U C K.

"Stiles, if you don't help me out of these jeans and pass me the damn tweezers, then, so help me I will skin you alive," His eyes flare blue, voice soft and controlled.

Stiles does. It's all he can make himself do without even realizing that, for all intents and purposes, he's removing Derek Hale's jeans. His head is on overdrive, and he can't think straight. After the jeans are removed he hears his Dad's voice calling him from downstairs, because of course he let the lights on.

Universe - Infinity and more than some, Stiles - 0.

When he comes back, bag of chips and bottle of water under one arm, Derek's already taken the bullet out, chest heaving up and down and leg bleeding copious amounts of blood, making his skin a sickly grey. 

"You're a fucking asshole," he grits out, knees protesting because he all but tackled the floor in his haste to get to the man, food dropping to the floor. He spends the next few minutes bandaging his wounds tightly-- He hopes it's enough.

But Derek's face is still covered in sweat and blood, his chest heaving slowly now. 

"Oh god, please don't die. You can't die on me now, I'll go to jail. Even Dad can't save me from that. Oh god, I won't survive the showers, man, you got to make it, tell me you'll make it-- What?"

Derek's staring at him. Just...staring. 

"Water," He says at last, and Stiles scrambles for the bottle he brought with him on the way back, unscrewing the cap and placing it carefully on Derek's weak grip. 

"So you're going to be okay? Is the pain manageable? I don't have any painkillers, you got to get better soon. Please. My Dad is literally ten minutes from coming up the stairs and demanding to know why I'm talking to myself like a damn loony. You see, I don't actually do that. Much. I do, but not like this. This is crazy..."

"Stiles, shut up."

"I can't shut up! I'm in shock! You're just-- there's so much blood! Look at it, damn it!" It was true. Derek's leg was soaked down, blood having dripped to the tub and pooling there. 

"Oh god..."

"Stiles--"

"I'm gonna be sick--"

"Stiles!"

A hand shoots up to seize him by the neck of his shirt, pulling him down against the side of the tub and before he can even get one more complain out he feels soft, chapped lips against his own. He kind of just blinks for a while, eyes locked with Derek's. Then he comes to himself and he gasps, which makes his mouth open, and he's lost as soon as he feels the gentle prod of a hot tongue. 

His eyes slide shut, legs picking him up of their own accord as he sits by the side of the bath. It's disgusting, he can smell Derek's blood as their lips move against one another and their tongues dance. But he can taste pure and unadulterated Derek now, and it's intoxicating. The fact that this is his first kiss, the fact that it's with a guy, the fact that he should be freaking out all pass him like a train because it's perfect.

Because it makes his hand slide to Derek's and squeeze tight. Because it makes the other play with the dark, thick hair on the back of the werewolf's head. Because, for the second since they've met (again) Stiles doesn't have anything to say. Just wants to keep feeling that tongue against his, those teeth nibbling and sucking at his lips. 

When they both pull away to catch their breath, Derek looks away.

Stiles doesn't freak and he doesn't talk and he certainly doesn't go in for another kiss. 

Except he does. 

He goes for plenty, and Derek lets him, the wounds healing twice as fast when they're connected.

By the time both of them have neck cramps, and Stiles's lips are sore and puffy, it's the break of dawn, and Derek's wounds are no more than a baby pink. 

He sneaks Derek out by the window of his room, and Derek doesn't look back as he goes. Stiles hits the bed the second the man's gone, asleep. 

When he wakes up, there's a note under his pillow.

 

_Yesterday never happened._

_~~You should keep chewing that marshmallow gum, makes your tongue taste like candy.~~ _

 

He grins. Today is a good day. Yesterday was a better one.

For the first time in the history of Stiles not being awesome, the score became Universe - Infinity and more, Stiles - 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't be too harsh on me-- this is literally my first attempt at any sort of drabble fanfic chapter thingy. Which, all on its own, should make it okay for this work to suck ass and for me to have wasted your time completely. 
> 
> So there's that. If you enjoyed it, though, I'll love you forever.
> 
> (Kudos for me not having a beta reader for this.)


End file.
